Betty Bumped into a Friend in London
by bg Roman
Summary: G/B. Getty. One year, five months, and fifteen days after they went to Coney Island together, Betty and Gio bump into each other on the street in London. Betty invites him for coffee to talk about old times, but Gio isn't so sure he wants to reminisce.
1. Meet me for Coffee

Betty Bumped into a Friend in London

Emerging from the Underground's staircase into a bitterly cold wind, the damp chill slicing through her, Betty swung her briefcase and walked briskly, threading between the throngs of pedestrians swirling around her. A misplaced step landed on a man's foot, throwing her off balance, and the man turned and grasped her by the arm to prevent her from falling.

"Betty!" he said. "Is that you?"

Betty looked up at his face, "Gio?" She flashed a brilliant smile at him, blinding him, it was the first time he'd seen her without braces.

"Betty," said Gio. "What are you doing here?"

"Work," said Betty. "I'm working here!"

"Me too," said Gio. "And, unfortunately, I have to go, they're expecting me and I'm already late."

"Gio, I want to talk. Can you meet me for coffee later?"

"Not today," said Gio. "Some other day. I have to run."

"It has to be today," said Betty. "I'm leaving tomorrow."

"Oh," said Gio. "I thought ..."

"What?"

"I thought you said you worked here," said Gio, "in London."

"No," said Betty. "I mean, I am working here, but just this week. I fly out tomorrow afternoon."

"Well, have a safe trip," said Gio, turning to walk away.

"Gio, I want to talk to you," said Betty, running after him and grabbing his arm.

"Really?" said Gio. "And yet, you never call me."

"I wanted to, Gio," said Betty, "but I've been busy, I've got a lot going on, a budding career, you know, stuff."

"Quack," said Gio, humorlessly.

"Excuses. I get it. Pardon me."

Gio stood silently, studying Betty's face intently, until she became uncomfortable from the scrutiny.

"Please, Gio, let's get together. Can't you make time today?"

"I don't know."

"I miss you and I want to catch up."

"I guess I could do it," said Gio. "After seven. I could rearrange some things. But ..."

"What?"

"Do you really want to talk to me?" said Gio.

"Of course I do, meet me at seven!" said Betty. "Where?"

"By the fountain in Trafalgar square," said Gio.

"Great," said Betty. She tried to hug him but she bumped her briefcase into his arm instead because he was already backing away.

"Trafalgar square at seven," said Gio, then he disappeared into the crowd.

* * *

Betty kept her eye on the clock all afternoon, its hands turning slowly, creeping ever slower as the hours went by. By five she had all her papers in her briefcase and her coat lying on top, ready in the chair by the door, ready to grab the minute she could leave, which was the moment the photographers and models left the studio.

Suddenly a commotion arose and two of the models barged into her room. They were having a fit because several pieces of clothing were missing. Betty made some calls to locate the items and soon sorted out the problem. Unfortunately the delay pushed the end of the session back by an hour.

Betty cursed that she had not thought to get Gio's phone number. She had no way to contact him and let him know of the delay. She realized she didn't know where he worked or lived or anything about him. She was completely at the mercy of the photographers. The success of her whole trip depended on this shoot and she couldn't leave until it was complete.

Betty picked up her cell phone and dialed.

"Daniel," said Betty into his voice mail. "Do you have Gio's number? If you have it, call me."

Finally the session was done and she was able to break away, dashing to the Underground. She ran down the steps, shoved herself into the subway car, heedless of the rush hour lineups and pushing ahead of others, yanking her briefcase through the crush of other passengers. When she reached the Charing Cross station she leapt out and dashed up the stairs, running across traffic and into the square. Panting and red-faced, she reached the fountain at seven twenty and circled it at a run, then again, then walked around it another half a dozen times.

Gio was not there.

Twenty minutes, thought Betty, just twenty minutes but it might as well be a lifetime.

Betty walked around the square, the fountain, the square, the fountain, and then sat on a bench where she could survey the entire square. Maybe he was delayed, she thought, even more than she had been. He didn't have her number either. At first it was busy, but within an hour the crowd thinned. She could easily see all the people, coming and going, and no one turned into Gio.

Now, he was way overdue. Betty reviewed what she knew about Gio. She knew nothing. She had no idea how to contact him. She found it unbelievable that Gio, her Gio, wouldn't wait a mere twenty minutes for her. Or, that he wouldn't come at all. It was so unbelievable that suddenly, contacting him became the most important thing in the world for her to do.

"Daniel," said Betty, getting his voice mail again. "Why didn't you call me! Call as soon as you get this message."

About half an hour later Daniel called Betty.

"Hi, Betty. Sorry, I just got your messages."

"Daniel, I saw Gio!" said Betty, skipping small talk.

"How is he?" said Daniel.

"I don't know," said Betty.

"What?" said Daniel.

"I saw him," said Betty. "But I didn't talk to him. Then he was supposed to meet me two hours ago but he's not here! Do you have his number?"

"No," said Daniel. "I don't have it. I just have his old one."

"Can you get it?" said Betty. "I need it right now."

"How?" said Daniel. "I haven't seen him in over a year."

"Go to the deli," said Betty. "And ask whoever's there. He'll probably know."

"I could try that," said Daniel.

"Do it," said Betty. "And call me right back."

Daniel called back in fifteen minutes.

"I'm in the deli," said Daniel. "The guy doesn't have the number. And, he says, even if he did, he wouldn't give it out."

"It's an emergency, Daniel," said Betty. "Ask him to ask someone else! Get the number!"

Betty could here the muffled sound of Daniel talking to the sandwich maker and then he came back on the line.

"He'll call his boss during his break," said Daniel. "That's the best I could get."

"When?" said Betty, the pitch of her voice rising from panic. "When is his break?"

"In an hour," said Daniel. "I can call him in an hour and see what he found out."

"Justin will be at school. I wonder if I can call his school and get them to page Antonella."

"Who's she?" said Daniel.

"Gio's sister," said Betty. "She goes to the same school as Justin."

"Are you crazy?" said Daniel. "Wait an hour and we'll see what this guy finds out."

"Okay," said Betty. "But do not leave the deli! Stay there until he calls. And call me immediately."

"Betty," said Daniel. "I have work to do."

"Daniel," said Betty. "I only have tonight! You have to help me. Your top priority is to get me Gio's phone number!"

"Okay," said Daniel. "Okay. Relax. I'll get a sandwich and stare at him while I eat it. I'll call you the minute I have anything."

* * *

Forty-five minutes later Daniel called Betty to tell her the address of Gio's restaurant in London.

Grabbing her briefcase, cell still at her ear, Betty raced through the traffic and back down the Charing Cross steps.

"Tell me which line," said Betty. "Which way?"

"I don't know," said Daniel.

"Hurry up and google it," demanded Betty, abruptly hanging up on Daniel when she saw a station attendant.

"How do I get here?" said Betty, holding out the paper with the address on it.

The attendant gave her directions and pointed her toward the platform.

Within half an hour Betty turned into a street to see a restaurant sign that read "Giovanni's Sandwich Emporium" and she ran into its doorway. It was a classy restaurant, beautifully decorated with artful lighting, stylish tables and chairs, packed with patrons. A maitre'd named Alfred stood just inside the entrance.

Flushed and sweaty from running, Betty said "Is Gio here?"

"No," said Alfred. "Do you have a reservation? We're full."

"I don't want a table," cried Betty. "I want Gio."

"He's not here," said Alfred.

"Where is he?" demanded Betty. "Give me his number!"

"I don't give out numbers," said Alfred. "That would never do."

"Call him for me," cried Betty. "Tell him it's Betty."

"He said no calls tonight," said Alfred. "It's the first time I've ever known him to say that."

"Say what?"

"That he's not taking calls," said Alfred. "He specifically told me so."

"But this is an emergency," said Betty. "You have to help me."

"He's doing something special," said Alfred. "He was distracted all day and left early. And he said no calls. Highly unusual."

Betty set her briefcase and coat on a chair beside Alfred and pondered the situation. Obviously Gio had gone to meet her at Trafalgar square. He had not forgotten. He went there but he didn't wait. Why didn't he wait? Where was he now?

"I'm the something special he's supposed to be doing!" cried Betty, blushing after the words came out, but plunging on, "and he wants me to phone him right now!"

"How do I know you're not his psycho ex-girlfriend from New York?" said Alfred. "The one he moved to London to escape from."

"How do you know I'm from New York?" said Betty.

Alfred pointed at his ear.

"Ah," said Betty. "He told you he has a psycho ex-girlfriend?"

"He didn't," said Alfred. "I'm just surmising from the evidence before me."

Betty tapped her fingers to her lips and thought. How could she convince Alfred to call Gio?

"Will you text him?" said Betty. "That isn't a call."

"I don't know," said Alfred. "I'll ask the cook."

Betty sat down while Alfred disappeared into the kitchen. He returned in a few minutes.

"Will you leave if I text him?" said Alfred. "I'll text him your name and number. That's it."

"Yay," cried Betty, jumping excitedly. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"

"Don't make me regret this," said Alfred, pulling out his phone.

"Wait a minute, please," begged Betty. "Don't give him my name, just the number."

Alfred looked askance at Betty, "You don't want me to use your name?"

"No," said Betty. "Maybe. I don't know."

"Uh," said Alfred, his fingers poised over the phone. "Your number?"

"No," said Betty. "Just tell him to call here. No reason."

"No," said Alfred. "That wasn't the idea."

"How about if you text him to call you but say it's not urgent? Will you do that?"

"Okay, I guess that's fine," said Alfred, sighing.

Alfred typed a text message into his phone and Betty sat beside him quietly, chewing a strand of hair, praying for Gio to answer it.

About fifteen minutes later Gio walked into the restaurant doorway, ducking past a group of people exiting, and, not noticing Betty, who was staring down at her hands, folded in her lap, stepped in front of Alfred.

"What's up?" said Gio. Alfred tilted his head and gazed towards Betty.

Hearing Gio's voice, Betty jumped up and grabbed Gio's arm.

"Gio!" cried Betty.

Stunned, Gio turned and confronted Betty, "You? Here? Why?"

"To see you!" said Betty. "Where have you been?"

Gio yanked his arm out from under Betty's hand and, white from suppressed rage, said, "Come."

Gio turned and led Betty through the tables in the restaurant, past the kitchen, past the walk-in freezers, past the pantry, past the employee's break room, to a small windowless office in the back, furnished with a desk, a bookcase, a couple of chairs, and a reading lamp. Every surface in the room was stacked with papers, books, magazines and other clutter. He raked his hands over the seat of the chair facing the desk, dumping everything that was on it onto the floor, and pointed at the chair.

"Sit," said Gio, waiting for Betty to sit down. He closed the office door and stepped towards her, but then he turned and went around the desk.

"Why are you here?" said Gio, pacing and glaring at Betty from behind his desk.

"To see you," said Betty. "Where have you been?"

"Walking," said Gio. "Walking around."

"All this time?" said Betty. "I was at Trafalgar square waiting!"

"Not at seven," said Gio.

"No. I was a little late," said Betty. "I couldn't help it. I wanted to call you but I didn't have your number."

"I waited fifteen minutes," said Gio. "That's more than a little late."

"Sorry," said Betty. "I know, it was bad, but why didn't you stay longer? I waited for hours."

"Because I started to think. All day I'd been on tenterhooks, thinking of nothing but you, wanting you. I couldn't help myself even though I feared it was hopeless. You would hurt me. You always do. You always will. When I realized that, I decided to walk to the Tower Bridge."

"Why?" said Betty. "Why'd you go there?"

"It's past the Tower of London. Appropriate, don't you think?" chuckled Gio bitterly. "For someone whose enslaved heart is imprisoned by a sadistic one."

"Gio, I'm not like that! I'm your friend."

"Not a friend. No."

"That was hours ago! What have you been doing all this time?"

"Looking at the water," said Gio, sitting down, putting his hands on the desk. "Thinking."

"About what?" said Betty.

"Why didn't I just let you fall down this morning? What made me say your name? Why would you ask me to meet you just to stand me up? Why do you play cruel games with me?"

Gio sat upright and slammed his fist on the desk, making Betty jump, shouting, "And why can't I stop caring?"

Gio rested his elbows on the desk and covered his face with his hands.

"Gio, it was an accident, it wasn't my fault I was late."

"I didn't know that," said Gio, putting his hands down. "I don't know that. I stood on that bridge looking at the water and I thought and thought. I wondered. Is it high enough? Is the water cold enough? How long would it hurt?"

"Oh, god," said Betty. "Thank god, you didn't …"

"Thank Antonella," said Gio. "She loves me. I couldn't hurt her. No. There's no escape from you that way."

Betty leaned forward and covered Gio's hand with hers. He stared at her hand, trying to divine what she meant by the gesture.

"Betty, have you not tortured me enough? Why are you here? Turning my life upside down again after I thought I was over you."

"I wanted to talk, remember the good times," said Betty. "Can't we?"

"This morning I thought so," said Gio, pulling his hand out from under hers. "It's been one year, five months, and fifteen days since we went to Coney Island. I thought that was enough time, but it seems it isn't."

Gio stood up, "Betty, you _never_ considered calling me in all that time, yet when you bump into me on the street, all of a sudden, you want to talk!"

"I'm sorry I never called," said Betty, bowing her head and looking down at her hands.

After a moment, Betty straightened up and said, "Come on, let's eat. Let's talk like old friends."

"Well," said Gio, walking to the door and opening it for Betty. "I can't."

Betty walked out of the office and they retraced their steps to the front of the restaurant.

"Gio," coaxed Betty. "Please, I'm hungry. Let's just sit and eat together. Its eleven o'clock and I haven't had dinner. There are a lot of tables free. You can show me your menu. It'll be fun. This is our last chance."

"Betty," said Gio. "If you want to be with me, say so, otherwise no."

"How would I know if I did?" said Betty. "You won't talk to me."

"Would you ever consider moving to London?" asked Gio.

"And give up my job?" said Betty. "Never! I love my job."

"Then we have nothing to talk about," said Gio. "Alfred will serve you dinner."

Gio turned to Alfred and said, "Give her anything she wants, on the house."

Gio turned and strode out of the restaurant, Betty chasing after him.

"Hey," said Betty, grabbing Gio's arm.

"Goodbye," said Gio, stopping to yank his arm away from her.

"No!" said Betty, as Gio resumed walking. "You can't just walk away."

"Yes, I can," said Gio. "I've done it before."

"Gio!" screamed Betty, as he reached the corner. "Come back!"

Gio turned back and walked up to Betty, who stood a few steps from his restaurant door, coatless and shivering, a pleading look in her eyes.

Pouncing on her, Gio grabbed her head roughly between his hands, pressing his mouth over hers, hungrily and savagely kissing her, his grasping fingers tearing her hair. Surprised by the attack, Betty opened her mouth to scream but the only sound she made was a moan from the sudden pain. Tears forming in her eyes, she grabbed his shoulders to steady herself. His breath hot and rapid, Gio's tongue explored her mouth, his grip powerful, bruising. Betty did not resist. She did not return his kiss.

After a few moments, Gio released Betty, scrutinizing her face to gauge her reaction. Betty dropped her hands from his shoulders and lowered her eyes. A tear rolled down her cheek, wetting the red welt forming on it.

"What are you doing?" whimpered Betty.

"I had to know," said Gio, "I needed to know what it felt like."

"I'm sorry," said Betty. "I'm so sorry."

"For what?" said Gio.

"Everything," said Betty. "For hurting you."

"What's done is done," said Gio.

"Can't we start over?" said Betty, shivering and tucking her hands under her arms.

"And pretend like nothing ever happened between us?" said Gio. "No."

"Gio, I was wrong not to call you," said Betty. "I want to know you now."

"If you ever move to London, look me up," said Gio. "Maybe I'll still be here. Maybe I'll want to know you again."

Betty looked longingly at the restaurant, "Let's go in where it's warm."

"No," said Gio, tucking his scarf into his leather jacket. "You go in and eat. Get your coat."

"You won't come in?" said Betty.

"No," said Gio. "Have a safe journey."

Gio paused a few moments, scanning her face thoroughly, then said, "Goodbye."

Betty watched Gio turn and stride away to the corner, watching him until he was out of sight. He never looked back.

Betty entered the restaurant and walked up to Alfred.

"What would you like to eat?" said Alfred.

"Nothing, thanks," said Betty, picking up her coat from the chair beside him.

"Do you want a turkey and sun-dried tomato baguette to go?" asked Alfred.

"I'm not hungry," said Betty, then she looked at him sharply, "Why would you offer me that sandwich?"

"It's the special," said Alfred.

"Today!" said Betty. "It's today's special?"

"No, not just today's," said Alfred. "It's the special everyday."


	2. Rum Toddy

Betty Bumped into a Friend in London Chapter 2: Rum Toddy

"Will you be taking a sandwich?" asked Alfred.

"I don't think so," said Betty, pulling on her coat and catching him studying her face. Betty yanked a lock of hair over her cheek, trying to hide the bruises forming there.

"It's the house specialty, an award winning sandwich. People travel from all over the world just to eat it."

Betty caught sight of her blackened fingers, smudged from wet mascara, and realized how awful she must look.

"Sure, I'll take it," replied Betty, desperate to get rid of Alfred. He left to fetch it.

She pulled out her cell phone to call a cab. She punched in the number and had just touched the phone to her ear when its battery exploded.

"Ow!" cried Betty, hurling the phone to the floor and grabbing her tingling ear. The thudding bang reverberated around her skull.

"Jeepers!" yelled Betty, cursing loudly. She leaned against the wall, rubbing her ear.

Alfred ran out from the kitchen, sandwich in hand, "Are you alright Ma'am?"

Covering her deafened ear with her hand, Betty nodded.

Alfred dropped to his knees to look at the burnt phone. Black viscous liquid oozed out of the battery case. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and picked up the hot phone gingerly, holding it up to look at.

"This happened to me before!" said Betty, a bit too loudly, looking at the ruined phone. "Do I have a curse?"

"Shall I dispose of it Ma'am?"

"Yes, throw it out," said Betty. "It's some cheap off-brand our clueless receptionist, Amanda, bought for me. It's never worked properly."

Alfred handed Betty the sandwich and wrapped his handkerchief around the destroyed phone.

"The second friggin' time it's happened! Oh yeah, Amanda says 'lightning never strikes twice' and I believed her. God, what an idiot I am for taking the phone no one else wanted."

Betty looked at the sandwich in her hand. It was wrapped snugly in white paper with a ribbon tied around it. Betty touched the silky ribbon, rubbing the smooth lace-edged satin between her fingers. It looked exactly like a sandwich from her past. The turkey and sun-dried tomato baguette he had given to her, with a little note attached. While not exactly an apology for provoking her, it was the next closest thing.

"Are all sandwiches wrapped this way?" asked Betty, a hand to her lips, her face pale. "With ribbons?"

"No," said Alfred, "just the special."

"Why?"

"I don't know," said Alfred. "It's always been that way."

Betty turned the sandwich over, examining it intently. Suddenly, she wanted to see a note. But there was no note. There was no message attached.

The sandwich was the message.

Remembering that long-ago note and looking for a note on this sandwich, brought a horrible thought into her mind. An intense sensation of nausea flooded her. She was going to throw up. But she didn't have time to be sick.

"Alfred, how far is it to the Tower Bridge?"

"Only a minute," said Alfred. "We're quite close."

"By foot?" said Betty.

"By car. It's a fifteen minute walk."

Betty checked the time. It was over ten minutes since Gio had walked away from her. Clutching the sandwich, Betty snatched up her purse and briefcase.

"Can you show me the way?"

She led Alfred out the front door of the restaurant and he pointed down the street.

"You go down there, and around that corner."

It was exactly the way Gio had gone.

"I want to go to the bridge," said Betty. "Now."

"At this time of night? It'll be deserted."

"I don't care," said Betty. "I want to get there as quickly as possible."

With one piercing whistle, Alfred flagged down a cab. It pulled in front, Alfred opened the cab's door for her, and Betty hopped in.

"Goodnight Ma'am," said Alfred, shutting the door.

"Tower Bridge," said Betty to the driver, pulling her wallet out of her purse. "Hurry."

The cab driver pulled out into the quiet street in the direction Alfred had pointed. Within a few moments they were driving along the river.

Betty looked at the black water, the inky surface reflecting the twinkling lights, and thought about Gio. What if he was on the bridge? What if he was not on the bridge? She thought about delaying her flight. Who would need to know? What plans would need to changed?

"Which way is the water flowing?" Betty asked the cab driver. "Is this upstream or downstream of the bridge?"

"Downstream," he replied.

Betty peered at the river's surface, looking to see if there was anything floating on it. She could see nothing.

"We're here," said the cab driver, slowing to turn onto the bridge deck.

"Stop," said Betty, spotting a lone figure standing at the middle of the span. Her hunch was right. Gio had returned to the bridge after he left her. "Stop here!"

"I can't stop here," the driver said. "I'm in traffic."

"Stop!" demanded Betty, voice rising in panic, pulling the door's handle and pushing it open.

"Hey," said the driver, jamming on the brakes. "You can't get out here."

"Take whatever you want," said Betty, tossing her wallet onto the front passenger seat. As soon as the cab stopped she jumped out, dumping her purse and briefcase onto the sidewalk and sprinting towards the middle of the bridge.

The impatient driver behind him already honking, the cabbie grabbed the fare from Betty's wallet, throwing it out the window onto her purse, and drove off.

In a few steps Betty could see the figure was a man, stripped down to a t-shirt, leaning over the railing, looking down at the water.

A couple more steps and she could tell it was him.

"Gio!"

"Betty?" said Gio, holding onto the railing, turning to look at her. "Go away!"

"What are you doing?" cried Betty. The chill wind penetrated her thin coat and a sprinkling of raindrops blew in her face.

"Go away," said Gio, backing away from her as she approached him. "Stop!"

Betty stopped about ten paces from him. She spotted his coat on the sidewalk. "Gio, why did you take off your coat?"

"Why ruin a perfectly good jacket?" Gio shrugged. "Water destroys leather."

"Gio," cried Betty, gusts of wind whipping her hair across her face. "Don't do it."

"Why are you here?" asked Gio. "I don't want an audience!"

"I came to stop you," said Betty, pushing her hair back from her face.

"Why are you doing this to me? Why?"

"Why are _you_ doing this? You don't have to do it. Let's go inside."

"Yes, I do," said Gio, stepping backwards, increasing his distance from Betty. "I have to do it before it's too late."

"What do you mean? Too late?"

"Betty, you have no idea the danger you're in."

"Me? In danger from what?"

"From me. You're in danger from me."

"What do you mean?"

"Betty, I almost strangled you back there," said Gio. He gripped the railing, his knuckles ghostly white.

"Gio! That's impossible. You love me." Betty stepped closer to him, but Gio backed away.

"Love!" spat Gio. "I used to love you. Now, I don't know what to call it."

Gio looked around warily, backing past a lamppost. Few cars passed them on the darkened wet bridge. The light drizzle fed the greasy puddles growing around the cobblestones.

"But we've known each other for a long time. What's wrong now?"

"Every time you reject me the disappointment hurts worse. Today was a thousand times worse than before. I just can't handle the hope anymore. If I could only kill my hope, I would. Why did you come?"

"To stop you."

"Yeah, sure. Really, you came to talk. All you ever want to do is talk about yourself. Blah, blah, blah. How perfect your life is because I'm not in it."

"I'm sorry." Betty sat down on the sidewalk, sheltering herself from the wind under the bridge's railing. The drizzle made her coat, hair and glasses glisten in the dim lamplight.

"For what?"

"Whatever I did. Everything. Put your coat back on, it's freezing."

"What difference does it make now? Leave me alone. Go."

"I can't go. I won't go. I can't leave you like this."

"Why not? You left me fine before."

"Because _friends_ don't let their _friends_ jump off bridges, Gio."

"So, that's what you call this, what we have, a _friendship_? You seem to forget me pretty easily."

"Yes, I didn't call."

"'Let's be friends', you said, 'Be my friend', you _insisted_, 'okay', I said, you win, but you never called me anyway. What was the point?"

"Maybe I didn't call you Gio, 'cause it's hard to admit when you're wrong."

"You? Admit you're wrong? That'll be the day."

"Yes, I was wrong. Maybe I figured out I shouldn't have let you walk away."

"You're doing it again." Gio backed up, putting a few more paces between them.

"Doing what?"

"Betty, for your own sake, you better leave." Gio stepped up onto the ledge.

"I'm staying here until you change your mind. Come to the restaurant with me." Betty crouched, inching on her knees towards him, peering through her rain-splattered glasses, her eyes fixed on him.

"You don't want me to come with you," said Gio, his arms wet and the navy t-shirt black over his shoulders where it was soaked through.

"Yes, I do. Gio, I like you!" Betty stopped to push back the wet strands of hair, revealing her bruised face smudged with mascara.

"No, you don't. Betty, I'm not who I was. I hate me. You'll hate me. That's why it's so hopeless."

"That's crazy. Don't talk like that."

"But it's the truth." Gio climbed up another step.

"I don't believe it!"

"You're either incredibly foolish, or very brave."

"I just want you to come inside."

"I have to do this, Betty. Why are you making it so hard?"

Betty tried to think. She didn't have a phone. She couldn't call for help. No one was around. What could she do? She had to keep him talking.

"It's hard?"

"Yeah, it's hard. If it was easy, it'd be done already."

"But why? Why?"

"For you. To save you."

"I know you wouldn't hurt me. You love me."

"Not any more. Betty, I'm not the same man. Not having you has turned me into a monster. You felt it. That kiss. If you can even call it that."

Gio wiped the water from his face. "I disgust myself. I almost throttled you afterwards just because you made me do it. I deserve to die."

"Gio, don't jump. Please."

"I can't live like this. I'm not meant to be alone. Betty, I have to do this before I change my mind. The next time, I'm going to kill you for sure."

"Good god Gio, it's me telling you, _me_, don't do it!"

"Betty, it's for you. My last act will be to save your life."

"Gio, if you won't do it for me, think of Antonella," pleaded Betty. "You'll hurt her."

"It can't be helped. She'll either have a brother who's a murderer or one who's dead. Dead is better."

"Gio, I'm not leaving you here." Slowly, Betty crawled towards Gio, her hands and knees dirty and wet from the road.

"The only way to stop myself from killing you is to kill myself first."

"There has to be another way," cried Betty.

"I don't see any other way."

"Therapy, something."

"A shrink! No. Not my style."

"Gio, how about this? We can go on a date. A date, Gio. Our _first_ date. Dinner, dancing, whatever you want. I won't talk, if you don't want me to. I want to dance with you, Gio. Don't you want to dance with me? We can do it tomorrow."

"You're leaving, remember? Flying away tomorrow."

"I'll change my flight. I'll stay on a few days."

"Then you'll go. You'll still go."

"I don't know. It's a first date. It might lead to another. We don't know."

"It'll lead to another disappointment, like today. I know. I'm bound to snap."

"Or, maybe it won't."

"God, I better do this before it's too late. I can already feel myself weakening." Gio eased himself closer to the edge. "Goodbye, poor jacket. Too bad, you're getting wet anyway."

Betty looked around, the street was deserted. No one could help her. Jumping up, Betty tore off her coat and threw it into a puddle. She grabbed the railing, heaving herself up.

"Betty, what are you doing?"

"I'm going to jump first. Then you won't have to."

"If you take one more step, I'll jump." Gio stared at her, poised ready to jump. "Stop it, or I'll do it."

Turning around, Betty jumped into the street. She needed to get someone to stop.

"Look at me!" cried Betty. She stood in the center of the road, barely visible in her black clothing, covering her face with her hands. "I'm going to stay right here until you come down!"

"Betty, watch out," said Gio, turning around to look. She was standing in the road, her back to the traffic, in the rain. From his vantage point he could see the top of a double-decker turning onto the bridge, behind her. "Get off the road! A bus is coming."

"You have to come down and save me!"

Believing that Gio was only pretending he saw a bus, Betty, eyes closed, stood coatless in the rain, hands over her ears, and sang at the top of her voice, "la-la-la-la!"

"Betty!" yelled Gio, wide-eyed and watching in horror as the bus sped towards her over the slick bridge, its slapping wipers smearing the streaky windshield.

The wind and rain howling around his ears, Gio screamed, "Betty! Move!"

* * *

"Blimey, I'm knackered, Sam!" said Marg to the pretty young woman sitting beside her on the bus. "My age is starting to show."

"Ma, you just worked a double shift," said Sam, looking at the time on her watch. "And it's midnight. Anyone would be exhausted after working twenty-four hours straight."

"Just look at the gusting rain," said Marg, pointing through the rivulets of water on the bus's window to the dimpled whitecaps on the river. "Our brollies won't keep us dry in this gale."

"The garden could use some rain," shrugged Sam, shaking the water off her umbrella. "Now, we won't have to think about watering it."

"Finally, Tower Bridge! We'll be home soon. But the pugs will need a walk."

"I'll walk them," said Sam. "You can soak in a hot bath and I'll bring you a rum toddy."

"Now, that sounds like a fine plan!" said Marg. "What'd I do to deserve a thoughtful daughter like you?"

The bus lurched sharply as the driver slammed on the brakes, tires squealing, horn honking.

"Crikey! Right in the middle of the bridge," yelled Marg, grabbing Sam around the shoulders protectively. "What's going on?"

The bus pitched to a stop and the driver jumped up from his seat. In a panicked voice he shouted at the passengers, urging them to stay calm.

Ripping the medical kit off the wall beside him, he yelled, "Is there a first-aider here?"

"My mom's a nurse," called Sam, jumping up and pulling Marg up.

"Oh, thank God," said the driver. "Here!"

He held out the kit to Marg. "Go! I'll radio for an ambulance."

With Sam following close behind her, Marg ran to the driver, grabbed the kit, and hopped out onto the street.


	3. Raincheck on the Rum Toddy

Betty Bumped into a Friend in London Chapter 3: Rain-check on the Rum Toddy

"Oh, lordy!" exclaimed Marg, eyes widening as she stepped around the front of the bus and saw the scene before her. The bus's headlights and the dim lamplights illuminated the rain-soaked street, the wind-blown rain reflecting the lights and tapping on the cobblestones.

Turning back to her daughter, she said, "Tell the driver to call for two ambulances. And Sam, get the umbrellas."

Betty and Gio, coatless and soaking wet, lay sprawled on the road, motionless.

Arms flung out, Gio lay on his back in a shallow puddle, directly in front of the bus. His eyes closed, he looked like he was asleep.

Face down, Betty lay groaning, a few feet beyond Gio, on the edge of the curb, her black hair spread out over her.

Dropping the emergency medical kit, Marg fell to her knees beside Gio, putting her fingertips under his jaw, checking for his pulse.

Samantha knelt beside Marg struggling to hold the umbrella, trying to keep it from blowing away or turning inside out in the gusts.

"Where are their coats?" cried Marg to Samantha. "What were they doing standing in the middle of the road? Are they crazy? Good, his pulse is okay."

Trying to keep the rain off of Gio's face, Samantha fought to hold the umbrella steady.

Marg slipped one hand under the back of Gio's neck to steady his head and poked a finger in his mouth, checking to make sure his airway was clear. The back of his head was sticky from blood.

"Better give up on the umbrella, Sam. Get me a wipe from the kit. Get out some scissors while you're in there."

Samantha laid the scissors beside Marg and handed her a tissue. While Marg wiped the blood off her fingers, Betty pushed up onto her hands and knees and vainly looked around her for her glasses.

"Gio?" said Betty, turning and seeing him laying still. Betty's heart sank. "Gio! Gio! Are you okay?!"

Marg hid the bloody tissue under Gio's shoulder so Betty wouldn't see it.

"His pulse and respiration are fine," said Marg. "Now don't move, dearie. An ambulance is coming for you."

"I'm fine," said Betty, crawling towards Gio, pushing her wet hair out of her face.

"You had a bad fall," said Marg. "That's a nasty bruise coming up on your face."

Dazed, hand on her cheek, Betty sat on the wet road beside Gio, rubbing the painful bruise.

"No. This happened before," said Betty. She looked down at Gio, puzzled by his violent behavior. His face looked so peaceful now; all traces of rage and desperation had vanished.

"Did he hit you?" asked Marg, observing Betty's glance at Gio and her pallid face. "Sam, put your coat on her. She looks like she's going into shock."

"Gio, wake up!" cried Betty, grabbing Gio's hand and squeezing it.

"The police will be questioning you," said Marg. "They'll want to know what happened. Did he do that to you?"

Betty nodded. "But he couldn't help it. It was my fault."

"Sam," said Marg, "do you hear that?"

Wrapping her coat around Betty's shoulders, Samantha said, "What?"

"Typical behavior," said Marg. "Victims of abuse. They always blame themselves."

"No," said Betty. "It wasn't like that! It was … I made him do it."

Sending Marg an admiring glance, Samantha rubbed Betty's back to warm her.

Betty's voice trailed off. She didn't know how to explain what happened because she didn't understand it herself. Did Gio just jump in front of a bus to save her? What was she thinking by standing in the road? She almost got them both killed!

Marg picked up the shears and in a few seconds had sliced off Gio's t-shirt, the tattered pieces of dark cotton blowing and scattering in the wind as they came free.

"Sam," said Marg, "if you ever come home with a cock-and-bull story like that, I swear to god, I will hunt down the brute and tear him limb from limb."

Marg put down the shears and pulled the rest of Gio's t-shirt away exposing his flawless torso, as white and cold as marble. She deftly slid her hands over Gio's chest and abdomen, exploring his body, skillfully probing for hidden injuries.

"You don't understand," said Betty. "He loves me."

"Dearie, what you need is counseling and a restraining order."

"No. I was chasing him. I came here to talk to him. I have to talk to him." She didn't want him to hate himself anymore. She couldn't bear to see him in such pain.

"Well, he's a looker, I'll grant you that, but nothing makes up for violent behavior."

"He's not violent. It isn't him."

Even when she broke his heart, he'd been gracious and forgiving. At her request he promised he'd stay her friend. But her despicable neglect of him after that, had wrought untold damage. She had to face the fact that she had not been a good friend to Gio. She hadn't been any kind of friend at all. And even so, after all this time, he still cared very deeply about her.

Marg palpated Gio's ribs, stomach, liver, and kidneys. "I don't detect any internal bleeding or injuries. What's with the no coats? What was going on here?"

"Uh, …" Betty looked at the bridge railing. "He was going to, uh …"

"Jump?"

"Yes."

"And why would a young bloke, in the prime of life, want to do that?"

"To save my life," whispered Betty. How could he hate her so much and yet be willing to take such a drastic measure to protect her? "He said he had to do it to save me."

"He came here to jump but instead he gets hit by a bus!" exclaimed Marg. "This story gets weirder and weirder."

"I was trying to save his life."

"You're not making much sense, dearie," said Marg. "Soon they'll take you in for a check up and questioning. Is there anyone who can go with you? You shouldn't be alone."

"No," said Betty. "He's the only person I know in London."

Marg slid her hands up and down one leg and then the other. "Everything feels good down there. Nothing unusual. Although, his shoe size seems curiously large for his height."

The sound of a siren, blaring in the distance, became audible over the wind and rain.

"Here they come," said Marg. "It's about time. Are you staying with him?"

"No. I'm staying at a hotel. I'm supposed to fly back to New York tomorrow."

"The doctor may want you to reschedule your flight."

"Is he going to be okay?" asked Betty, shivering. Samantha pulled her coat tight around Betty's shoulders and hugged her.

"He's going to the best hospital in London and they'll do everything they can," said Marg. "For a concussion the first twenty-four to forty-eight hours are the most critical."

"Gio," said Betty, shaking his arm. "Wake up!"

"Does he have any conditions we should know about?"

"I don't know. I don't think so."

"Does he have any drug allergies?"

"I don't know. I wouldn't know."

Marg reached into Gio's pocket and pulled out his wallet, opening it and riffling through it. A pair of theater tickets fell out and Betty grabbed them before they blew away. After failing to find any medical alerts, Marg slipped Gio's wallet back into his pocket.

Betty could read the tickets' lettering without her glasses. She was holding two tickets to a nine o'clock performance, for that night, of 'Romeo and Juliet'. She would have loved to see that play. Gio _knew_ she would have loved to see it. He chose these tickets for her.

If only she hadn't been too late to meet him in Trafalgar square. What a different evening it would have been! They would have enjoyed a leisurely dinner before the show, a superb dinner, no doubt, since Gio wouldn't have settled for anything less, and then they'd have watched the magnificent play together, whispering clever comments into each other ears.

Gio might have put his arm around her and this time she wouldn't have pushed it away. No, this time, she would have laid her head on his shoulder. It would have been a thrilling performance, and afterwards they would have drunk beer at a cozy pub and talked about it.

They would have talked about everything and nothing. They would have certainly reminisced about her twenty-fourth birthday and the carriage ride he took her on, and laughed again over her alternate ending to the play, the one where the doomed lovers lived long and happy lives together in a cottage outside of Verona. And she would have smiled and giggled and flirted with him until he couldn't help but kiss her, and this time, she wouldn't have pushed him away.

Oh! And then, after all the talking and the laughing and the kissing, maybe he would have invited her back to his place. And maybe, no, surely, after such a wonderful evening on the last night of her trip, she would've gone with him.

"What have I done?" said Betty. "What have I done to you?" She gazed down at Gio's expressionless face, serene in repose. He looked as beautiful as an angel. He looked like the Gio she remembered. Who was he now?

His rage and despair shocked her. What was she supposed to have done when she realized she wanted to see him again after he'd moved thousands of miles away to avoid seeing her? All this time, she had thought the only person she was hurting by not calling him was herself.

Betty shook her head and sighed. Were they doomed lovers? How could they be doomed already, before they were even lovers?

When the paramedics arrived, Samantha pulled Betty away from Gio to give them room to work.

Glistening from the rain, Gio lay on the stretcher, his legs covered by clinging soaked pants, his muscular body naked and pale, and his tranquil face dreadfully still.

"Gio," cried Betty, giving his hand a final squeeze. "I'm not leaving till you get better!"

"We need a neck brace here," said Marg, and a paramedic handed her one. They laid a stretcher on the street beside Gio.

Marg slipped the collar around Gio's neck and snapped it shut. "Pulse, okay. Respiration, okay. He's got a head injury. I didn't find anything else. I couldn't find out any history."

The paramedics and Marg grasped Gio and eased him onto the stretcher. As soon as Marg had secured him the paramedics whisked him away.

Gio gone, the blood-streaked tissue and the ragged remnants of his t-shirt swirled around in the wind. Betty gasped and stared in horror at the dark stain on the ground where his head had been.

The bus driver came up behind them and squatted down beside Marg. "Thank you. We've collected up all their stuff and put it over there."

"Good," said Marg. "What happened?"

"The two of them were just _there_ in the middle of the road," said the driver. "Before I could react, the fellow pushed her out of the way. I didn't think I hit her."

"Maybe not. But she should go in and be checked out anyway."

"This never happened to me before," said the driver, his hands shaking. "I don't know how it happened."

The sound of Gio's ambulance grew fainter and the wailing siren of the second ambulance, approaching quickly, soon drowned it out.

"It was an accident," said Marg, patting his arm. "You did everything you could."

"Dearie," said Marg to Betty, "do you want me to stay with you? I've got tomorrow off."

Betty nodded.

"Ma, you're not too tired?" asked Samantha, picking up Betty's coat and her glasses.

"Sam, it's amazing what a little adrenaline will do for an old body. Too bad, I'll have to take a rain-check on that rum toddy."

Samantha dried off Betty's glasses and put them on her, then she draped Betty's coat over her shoulders and pushed her arms into its sleeves.

"After you walk the pugs," said Marg, "will you make up the spare bed? After they release her, this poor girl is going to need someone to look after her."


End file.
